


let's eat the cactus like it's an ice cream

by pengo_o



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bathrooms, Beware, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kinda, Panic Attacks, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, but like, endgame spoilers, if ur 9 don't read this ok?, ik peter is supposed to be pure and all that but oh well, ned kind of makes peter feel better, or he does to the best of his ability, post-Avengers: Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengo_o/pseuds/pengo_o
Summary: Peter's mind can't stray away from what he saw that day and he doesn't know if he's ever going to recovertw for panic attacks + ptsd symptoms





	let's eat the cactus like it's an ice cream

**Author's Note:**

> take the title any way you want to bc who am i to tell you what to think?
> 
> disclaimer: i had a dream that theresa may resigned and that i owned the marvel cinematic universe. i woke up and cried
> 
> EDIT 24/5/19: MY DREAM CAME TRUEEEEE 
> 
> still don't own marvel tho
> 
> edit 1/10/19: we now have an eton mess with a mop on his head as prime minister and this is well worse
> 
> in no way am i trying to belittle or romanticise mental health issues. if it appears so in any way please let me know and i will edit this or take it down if it calls for it

Bang, wallop, whoosh, gone.

Silence.

A deafening one, if he might add.

Peter's sitting on the floor in the corner of the boys' toilets. He knows it's _extremely_ unhygienic - he's pretty sure the last time he was in here he saw a guy literally drop his phone into his pee stream and end up peeing all over the floor in a desperate attempt to salvage it while running out muttering what sounded like "fuck" and "shit" and the occasional "my Dad's gonna _kill_ me."

But at this point, Peter can't really bring himself to care.

It's been a week since the... fight.

A whole week.

_Seven days <./i> _

__

__

A whole week since Tony Stark did the thing and the thing happened, and a whole week since it's all been okay. Let Peter rephrase that: a week since it's all been... back to normal. More or less.

The thought makes Peter scoff.

'Back to normal.'

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahaha. He's hilarious, isn't he? Even in his current state.

Shouldn't he be better by now?

Shouldn't it all just be behind him now? In a flurry of distant memories?

But the thing is, he knows it isn't. 

Because ever since he got back, he's woken up in cold sweat every time he dared to put his head to a pillow. And since he got back, his head has been swarming with thoughts. He can't concentrate on anything but the constant images of the devastated, debris-cluttered, ravaged wasteland littered with the ashes of what used to be people's bodies. With the images of Thanos; his face contorted into that of rage and his eyes glazed over with venom, and with the images of Tony - oh, Tony - lathered in blood, eyes slowly fluttering shut-

Nope, nope, nope, he's doing it again.

Peter rakes a trembling hand through his rather greasy hair and takes a deep, shaky breath.

He doesn't want this to happen again. It feels like there's a huge bag of rocks on his chest, weighing him down, and before he knows it, he's gasping for air.

Why does this have to happen to him? Is there not anyone else whatever deity out there could pick?

Think about nice things, he tries to mumble under his breath. Puppies, unicorns, baby elephants, kittens - ah, kittens - lovely little balls of fluff that make cute little noises and curl up on your chest at night and-

_Thanos probably killed them too._

Peter can't breathe anymore.

He was just sitting in history class, then they began talking about war. Which, frankly, Peter was fine with - wars happened and they have to learn about them, he gets that. And there's something _slightly_ different about it when you have practically fought in one and you can't say a word of it to anyone, but whatever. Peter had more important things to be thinking about, didn't he? Like learning. 

But it was as the class discussion started to drift into the topic of The Avengers when Peter first felt a small surge of panic. It was to be expected, though, because there have been press articles floating around the media for days now, all with suggestive titles like: _"Shocking: Avengers Black Widow suspected missing?"_ , _"World's richest multimillionaire and Avengers captain Tony stark presumed dead,"_ and _"Longtime hero Captain America disappeared with no explanation",_ and so on and so forth.

And while he was just sitting in class, everyone talking about those people just made everything so... real. It was just for a split-second, but it genuinely felt as if he was back on that field, surrounded by death, Being thrown about like a ragdoll by the man that could click his fingers and wipe out half of the planet.

And then he was back, and he realised he was fine, but he wasn't.

Because all of a sudden, he couldn't breathe.

He had to get out of that classroom. He couldn't be there, and he couldn't possibly be seen like this. It was full of teachers and his classmates and they would all look at him as if he had grown a third limb. What if they found out who he is? He can't risk that.

So he just got up, in the most collected manner he could muster, and walked out, proceeding to curl up into a little ball on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, there's footsteps.

And they're getting closer by the second.

Shit.

Nobody can see him like this. If they do, they'll ask all sorts of stupid questions and probably get a teacher and that'll attract even _more_ attention and that's the last thing he needs right now.

He takes an unsteady breath and forces his eyes shut as tightly as he can, bracing himself for the onslaught.

Except, nothing comes.

After a few seconds, Peter warily prises one eye open, only to see Ned crouching down beside him, his dark brown eyes clouded with concern. 

And that look in his friend's eye gives Peter a sudden sense of grounding.

At least _someone_ knows his 'secret identity', right?

 _Someone_ knows what he just went through, and _someone_ knows what's going on in that fucked-up little head of his.

"Peter...", Ned's quiet voice seeps through the fog in Peter's head.

He doesn't blame Ned for being concerned. He probably looks like shit right now: tear streaks staining his cheeks, his eyes ringed with redness and huge purple bags lying under them, squished up against the wall of the bathroom where someone probably peed this morning when there were no urinals free. Peter most likely looks absolutely ridiculous.

And Peter decides he's going to say something. This time, he's going to fill the silence that's been haunting every conversation. He has to, otherwise he's going to be trapped in this prison of the past for the rest of his miserable life.

"Ned, I-I...",

his voice fails him yet again. _Stupid voice box._

He takes a short breath, and tries again.

"I don't know what to do anymore." his voice sounds tiny, and it's just above a whisper, but judging by the look on the other boy's face, he knows that Ned heard him perfectly clearly. "I just-," another breath, "I can't breathe anymore, Ned. There's just so much to think about and so much happened and everything i think about or do that isn't related to it just always circles back to it and my stupid fucking head won't just let me rest because of these dumbass memories that won't shut the f-",

"Peter, look at me." Peter clamps his mouth shut and meets his friend's eyes. "Look, bro, there's no handbook on how to deal with these situations, so whatever reaction you're having is the right one, okay?",

Peter knows that this is the most serious he's ever seen Ned. Ever. And honestly? He's thankful for it. Because no way in hell would he rather have anyone else sitting on the bathroom floor with him right now.

"Do you wanna talk to someone?", Ned pipes up, after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Peter takes a moment or two to gather his thoughts before responding. "I-I can't let them know about it," he says, his voice still small and quivering. "If they find out, the-they'll... I don't even know what they'll do, Ned." he runs a hand through his hair once more, and the utter desperacy in his best friend's eyes as he says that makes Ned's heart want to break into a million tiny pieces.

"Yeah, well...", Ned trails off. "You've always got me. I mean, I"m not a counsellor or anything, but i mean if you wanted to...",

"Thank you, Ned."

The gentle smile that peter's friend gives him there and then could probably light up a whole city.

So Peter gives him a small smile back, and it's then when he realises that everything's going to be okay. eventually. And with ned here to help, maybe it won't take as long as he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> s e v e n  
> d a y ssssss  
> *cue the girl from the ring*
> 
> kudo and judo rhyme except they're basically the opposite of each other
> 
> that was to remind you to leave a kudo
> 
> you're welcome


End file.
